Liberi Fatali
by veritasargent
Summary: A novella of rather grand aspirations, drawn directly from the game FFVIII. There is no plot twisting, no new developments, and no romances aside from what is present in the original game.
1. Prologue: The Fight

_I wrote this fanfic years ago, when I was still very obsessed with FFVIII. I unfortunately do very little writing now. My strength nowadays is in beta reading, which I would very much love to begin on this site. I am required to submit at least 6000 words in order to qualify as a beta reader, so here it is. If you end up liking this story, please do say so, and I will post the rest of it, as it is a finished project on my computer. Please consider me as a beta reader!_

_~veritasargent_

* * *

><p>A red sun was just beginning to dawn, a deep crimson color in the east that tainted the clouds as if a giant's blood had spilled across the sky and dried there overnight. That was the sun's color, a deep blood red, that slowly, slowly would change to a deep orange and then to a fine yellow. But crimson was the only color that emerged now, along with the azure blue of night that still lingered in the west, reluctant to retreat to the brighter skies of morning. The sun's rays were barely starting to show over the black, rocky crags to the northeast, still snow-capped even in late spring. The mountains of Balamb never fully melted, even under the heat of summer. It was almost a magical snow, for the mountains were not very high compared to the other mighty ranges around the world. Balamb was only a small island, after all, not a great land mass. The snow on even some of the tallest mountains around the world, towering over Balamb's pitiful peaks, always seemed to melt by early summer. Not in Balamb. Some ancient sorcery seemed to prevent the snow from melting, keeping it white and deep throughout the summer.<p>

The mountains' silhouettes cast a darkness over Balamb Garden. The air had a stinging bite to it, but there was no wind – only the steeled weather of early spring. Dew was scarce to be found, even on the grassy plains to the south. Here in the rocky foothills it was unheard of. Grass and meadowland were only found in sparse areas. Other than the red beacon slowly strengthening in the east, the sky was gray and empty. Nothing stirred save two figures who were just stepping out onto a high granite plateau that stood as a mesa over the basaltic fields below.

Saying nothing, the two figures drew their weapons. Majestic gunblades for each. Over four feet long, the heavy broadswords sported thick hilts. Built into the handles were black triggers which fired a single bullet along the shaft of the blade at an opponent. It was a master's weapon, and a dangerous one in the wrong hands.

The two figures, one garbed in gray, and the other in black, started sparring. They were only training, but their weapons were deadly nonetheless, despite not being allowed to use the triggers of their gunblades. The figure in black was easily winning. He struck again and again, his gunblade flashing in the light cast from the rapidly rising sun. The other only prayed defiantly for a victory as each blow was carefully parried. As the one in black stopped to catch his breath, his training partner pulled the trigger. The young man in black dodged the bullet, but had dropped back a few feet, out of blade range.

The one in gray smiled an evil smile and, eyes twinkling, beckoned his partner on. As the man in black ran forward, the other fired again unexpectedly. The figure in black threw up his hands and leapt out of the way. He fell, gritting his teeth in anger.

Angered by his partner's dishonesty, he cursed and started to his feet. He raised his head to see the taller youth standing over him, gunblade held high.

Blood streamed down his face, and pain seared through his forehead. The figure in black picked up his gunblade and slashed in a wild arc, not caring where his blow landed. He felt his gunblade make contact, and before everything went black, he heard his gunblade ring as he dropped it on the rocks.


	2. 1: Lecture

Birds were singing somewhere behind him. He heard the swish of curtains being drawn, and light flooded the room. The figure in black opened his eyes to see Doctor Kadowaki bending over him. He sat up and realized that he was in the infirmary, lying on a bed. The room he lay in was narrow and plain, with only room enough for a small bed and a night stand. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all white. There were no pictures or posters on the walls. There were other rooms similar to it nearby, branching off of Doctor Kadowaki's office. Her office was much more interesting, if not entirely exciting. It held her desk and computer, with shelves of medicinal supplies. The walls were plastered with posters of health-related topics, such as muscle groups and bone structures. Unlike some infirmaries, this one had no childlike quality to it. Here, you came, got patched up, and you left. There was no messing around.

"How are you feeling?" Doctor Kadowaki asked. Her white coat covered a blue staff uniform. Her face showed no emotion at all. She saw too many students every day to love them all. It was a military academy, after all. Kids get hurt.

"My forehead hurts," came the distant answer.

Doctor Kadowaki put her hands on her hips. "No kidding."

Then she relaxed a little. The seventeen-year-old in front of her had been out cold for two hours and could use a little break. She helped him to sit up. "Looks like your eyes are focusing," she said. "You should be fine. Say your name for me."

"Leonhart. Squall Leonhart. Student number..."

Doctor Kadowaki nodded to interrupt him. She knew Squall well. Not from injuries, for Squall only went to the infirmary in a dire emergency, but rather from his instructors all speaking their praise about him. She would have chuckled had Squall not been present. All of his instructors always spoke of him in kind words or words of high esteem. They saw him as the next greatest warrior, the elite soldier of Garden. Here before her was the pride of Balamb Garden; wounded and completely unaware of his surroundings, judging by the questioning look in his eyes. On the exterior he was calm and cool, as if nothing had ever been wrong in his life, but his eyes betrayed his mind to her easily. Most others were easily fooled by Squall's emotionless guise, but not she. She had always been able to see through any barrier that Squall built up, when others could only sit patiently outside and wait until the walls fell from old age.

"Why don't you take it easy from now on?" she asked. "I found you lying unconscious in the training center, all alone and bleeding heavily from a knife wound to the head. A monster could have finished you off at any moment, with your gunblade lying five feet away. Next time you might not be so lucky."

Squall put a hand up to his forehead. His wound had been bandaged tightly with a strip of white cloth knotted around his head. It didn't hurt that badly. "Tell that to Seifer," he said. "He was the one who left me in the training center."

Doctor Kadowaki sighed heavily. She leaned down, and took off the bandage from his forehead. "Not quite. He was lying unconscious near you, with the same wound. I brought you both here."

Squall assessed this. Dr Kadowaki was a large woman, but hardly strong at all. How did she manage to carry both Squall and Seifer from the training center to the infirmary? It was a long walk. Squall decided that she must have had help from another teacher or a student. Who had seen him wounded, Squall wondered. The young man had always been self-conscious about his abilities as a fighter. He was talented and knew it, and wanted others to know it, too, if not directly. For someone to see him wounded, especially wounded by Seifer...

"I patched him up, and he went back to his dorm already. You stayed unconscious for another hour or so," Dr Kadowaki finished. She sighed again. "That Seifer won't listen to anyone. Why don't you ignore him?"

Seifer. Seifer Almasy, to be exact. He was a year older than Squall, and had enrolled at Balamb Garden the same year as Squall had. Twelve years ago, the year the Garden was built. Since they had first met, Squall and Seifer had been at each other's throats. Squall _did_ ignore him, which is why they quarreled. Seifer wanted to be the center of attention. He wanted Squall to look up to him in reverence and fear. Squall, on the other hand, was much too proud to look up at his peers in such a way. He would ignore Seifer, who would then pick a fight with him. Having to stand up for his own honor, Squall would of course comply. Though sometimes with words or weapons, usually they just threw punches. Or, rather, they would attempt to throw punches. Both were such excellent soldiers and brawlers that usually no harm would be done. Today was a first for both young men.

Squall reviewed the morning in his mind. He had gotten up long before dawn's light. Heading toward the training center, he had met Seifer. Both had agreed to spar. They had fought hard, breaking more and more training rules as they got further carried away. Seifer had cheated seriously by firing his gunblade. Somehow in the chaos of battle both had landed unconscious with nasty gouges in the forehead.

Squall rested back against the headboard, annoyed. "I can't just run away."

Doctor Kadowaki cuffed him lightly on the shoulder. "You wanna be cool, huh? Well, just don't get too carried away. You were lucky today. Next time you might get seriously hurt," she cautioned. "Well now, your instructor is..."

"Instructor Trepe," answered Squall.

"I'll call her now."

Squall laid down again as Doctor Kadowaki walked over to her desk. She dialed the phone and began talking. "Quistis? Come get your student...yes, yes...his injury's not serious...it'll probably leave a scar...right, right. Now please come by."

Doctor Kadowaki left the infirmary. Squall was responsible enough to be left alone, she knew. Squall looked over at the other beds. He was utterly alone, and very bored. He wanted to just leave, to get out of this infirmary, and go back to what he did best. Squall knew the rules well enough, and those rules stated that an injured student could not leave the infirmary without their home room instructor's written consent. He hated that rule. Another person to see him injured. Luckily he was alone in the infirmary today, with no other nagging students to vex him. Or was he? Others could have come, been tended, and left already. That thought bothered him greatly. Another insecurity to add.

"Squall...so we meet again," a female voice said.

Squall turned his head to see a girl a few years older than him standing next to his bed. Where she had come from, Squall didn't know. It was as if she had just been standing in another plane, and when she chose to she appeared to him in the mundane world. She was pretty, with dark brown hair and a small and innocent face. She had many childlike qualities about her, but seemed also to give off a caring adult manner. She wore a long white skirt which further played into the innocence of her character. Over this skirt was a blue short-sleeved vest and a green sash. He blinked his eyes once, and she walked away without another word.

Suddenly, the infirmary door opened and Instructor Quistis Trepe walked in. She was Squall's instructor, and only a year older than he was. She was lovely, with long strawberry-blonde hair and startling ice-blue eyes framed with becoming glasses. Of average height, she was thin and pale, but very muscular from long years of hard physical training. A long, coiled chain whip hung at her belt. Instructor Trepe was adept at fighting, and in battle was a terrifying opponent. But now, however, she was an eighteen-year-old instructor with a wounded student. She stood at the foot of Squall's bed and rolled her eyes.

"I knew it'd either be you or Seifer!" she exclaimed. "Neither of you reported for home room! Now come on, let's go. Today is the field exam!"

Instructor Trepe started away. Squall jumped up from the bed and followed. They walked down the hallway leading from the infirmary building to the main courtyard. It was a colonnaded walkway, surrounded by trees and shrubs. Every student they passed along the way reacted similarly as they walked by. Squall observed this carefully, and scoffed at them in his thoughts. All of them were immature fools. Each young man they passed gawked at Instructor Trepe because she was indeed very good looking. The boys all nodded to Squall respectfully. Who wouldn't? They all knew that Squall could kick their asses easily enough, though perhaps Squall didn't know it to be so. All of the girls reacted similarly. They revered Quistis as the zenith of what a woman could be in the patriarchal society of Garden life, and they tittered and giggled around Squall because he was cute. Squall had always been disgusted with this behavior. It was so shallow and foolish. Both Squall and Instructor Trepe had other qualities besides being good-looking and being superb fighters.

"Squall, is there something on your mind?" Instructor Trepe asked, still walking.

They both answered "not really" at the same time. She started laughing softly, and Squall stopped. He hated being laughed at. Instructor Trepe had only answered her own question because she had easily predicted Squall's answer. She was toying with him, checking to see if she knew him well enough to be able to predict his answers and reactions. Though she only saw Squall through classes, she had learned a lot about him through things he said. Or, rather, what he didn't say. Squall, she knew, was very apathetic and introverted. He had no sense of team unity, but his self-confidence was high. He would get the job done correctly the first time, and she knew this well. Squall Leonhart was trustworthy, partly because he never spoke to anyone except out of necessity, and partly because he had no reason to betray you.

"What's so funny?" he snapped.

"Funny?" Instructor Trepe replied, swallowing her giggles. "No, no. It's not that! I'm just happy. I feel like I'm beginning to understand my student a little, that's all."

Squall put one hand on his hip. "I'm more complex than you think."

Instructor Trepe smiled.

"Then tell me," she said. "Tell me more about yourself."

Squall ignored her and kept walking. Class would start soon, and he didn't want to be late, although Quistis Trepe was his instructor and he couldn't be late if they got there at the same time.

"It's none of your..."

"Business!" Instructor Trepe finished for him.

Squall, cursing under his breath, walked on. He would challenge her, but she was his instructor, not a regular student. He heard the bells announce the start of school, and he started running. He had shown more emotion in two minutes than he had in years.

Squall jogged into his first class of the day, to see his classmates already in their seats and talking quietly. Squall sat at his desk and looked across the room to see Seifer Almasy, his arch rival, sitting at his seat, cool as you please. He had a fresh wound on the bridge of his nose going diagonally from forehead to cheek. No longer bleeding, but still bright red. Squall felt self-satisfaction knowing that he had given Seifer that wound. Seifer was half a foot taller than he, and a year older.

Instructor Trepe walked into the room and stood at ease in the front of the room. "Good morning. Let's begin with today's schedule. There seem to have been some rumors flying around since yesterday," she began. "Yes, the final exam for SeeD candidates will begin later this afternoon."

Squall felt his breath quicken. SeeD...the elite mercenary force of Balamb Garden. It was his dream. It was everyone's dream. Only a choice few made it into SeeD. The failure rate on the written exam was almost 90%. Last week, one hundred promising students had been chosen to take the written exam, all between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Out of those hundred or so students, only twelve had passed the exam, including both Squall and Seifer. Those twelve SeeD candidates were to take the final exam, which was in the real world. The failure rate on the field exam was 60%.

Balamb Garden was one of three Gardens around the world. The other two were located in Trabia and Galbadia. Balamb was the second smallest, and the oldest of the three, built twelve years since. It held perhaps six hundred students, including almost one hundred SeeDs. About fifty instructors taught numerous classes, and the Garden Disciplinary Board members kept order. Squall had never liked those Garden Board members. They enforced the rules with firm hands, punishing any rule-breakers severely. They wore maroon robes, black gloves, and mysterious flat yellow masks over their faces. Their identities and genders were undiscoverable, since every feature was covered and hidden. It was sometimes very hair-raising, to see people walking around with no visible faces, only those foreboding flat masks.

Balamb Garden was superior to the other two Gardens in its training techniques. It offered the largest variety of courses to its students, some of which had nothing to do with fighting and soldiers and war. They would learn common-sense, ordinary things like grammar or world history. They even studied the occult and mysterious. Balamb Garden was the only Garden to have SeeDs. Students at Trabia Garden could train to become SeeDs, but they had to transfer to Balamb to take the final exams and become SeeDs. Students at Balamb Garden who did not attain SeeDship could be enlisted in armies all over the world, or be hired by civilians for security reasons.

Students could start their SeeD training at any age, but could only take the final exams between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Any student who was not a SeeD by the age of twenty was released from the Garden. Not everybody at Garden wanted to be a SeeD. Most didn't, actually, because they lacked the talent or the self-confidence, or because they only wanted to get better military training than was offered by most armies. Squall, however, had always wanted to become a SeeD. They were the elite around the world.

Instructor Trepe spoke again. "Those not participating and those who failed last week's written test are to remain here in study hall. Field exam participants will have free time until the exam. Just be sure you're in top condition," she advised. "Meet in the main hall at 1600 hours, in your uniforms. The team assignments will be announced by the headmaster there. Any questions?"

No one said a word, but the excitement level had increased considerably in the room.

"Field exam participants," the instructor continued. "I will see you all later."

Everyone got up, and left the room. Squall silently waited in the classroom for the crowds to get a good head start. He greatly disliked company. Nobody waited for him, because he had no friends. Squall's reputation around the school was that of being a lone wolf who had no sense of team unity. He left for the library once he was sure that the halls were clear of people. As he walked toward the elevator, a girl ran out of it. She didn't see Squall and ran into him. She fell down, and Squall almost lost his own balance. He helped her up and she started giggling.

"I was kinda in a hurry, and I'm sorry. This place is so much bigger than Trabia Garden! I just transferred from there," she said. She had a high-pitched, sing-song voice.

Squall didn't know what to make of her. He said nothing, only tightened his sword belt. She looked up at him, a coy blush in her cheeks. She was the most petite girl he'd ever seen. Scarcely over five feet tall, her features were small and thin. She had shoulder-length brown hair that hung flat around her grinning face, helping to bring out her enormous green eyes. She wore an odd assortment of huge brown boots, a yellow t-shirt and matching mini-skirt, along with spangly blue bracelets on her wrists. Strapped to her back was a nunchaku. An easy weapon to master, but potentially a very destructive one if wielded with enough force. This girl, however, didn't look like she possessed the amount of force that was necessary. Squall could make out neither muscle nor fat on her seemingly frail bones.

"Um... in the lobby I saw a map of the Garden. It had lots of places on it, but I don't really know what I can find at each place. You don't think that you could... um... show me around?"

Squall shook his head, in a seemingly unemotional way.

"Ooh...thanks anyway, then."

Squall nodded and started away. The girl suddenly caught up with him and he stopped.

"Hey, um, are you taking today's SeeD exam?" she asked timidly. Her eyes were bright as she spoke to him.

"Yeah."

"Then maybe I'll see you again, later. I already finished my training at Trabia. I transferred to Balamb Garden so that I could become a SeeD. I'm taking the exam today, too. Good luck to both of us! Thanks a lot!"

Squall continued on to the library. He had plenty of time to kill until the SeeD exam. He enjoyed just sitting alone in the library, reading. Nobody bothered him, and he could listen to their conversations. Very few students actually came to study, and the library committee didn't seem to care.

Squall entered the room, and grabbed a book off the shelves. It was one he had just started for his Monsters & Myths Around the World class. They were studying magic used by humans. Squall sat down at a study panel and began to read.

Another student nearby was worriedly scanning the shelves. "Damn!" the student said. "I can't remember the name of the book Instructor Aki was talking about. I'll just check out whatever."

Squall continued reading.

'_Magic' as we know it is actually 'para-magic'. In essence, _

_it is a technique which involves controlling tremendous energy. _

_Para-magic was developed for regular humans by Doctor _

_Odine of Esthar. He was the first scientist to research the _

_nature of magic by studying a sorceress. In general, para-_

_magic can only be used by a sorceress. However, the skill can _

_be gained through proper training if one has extreme ability _

_and potential. There are no such training facilities in _

_existence today. However, with para-magic, it is difficult to _

_achieve the power levels that are comparable to conventional _

_weapons. Combat training at a high level is only available _

_through one of the three Gardens. There are also many _

_academies of war around the world that offer less intensive _

_training. _

_But what is a sorceress? The legend goes that Great Hyne _

_created people. The sorceresses were given a fragment of _

_Hyne's own power. It's hard to determine how many _

_sorceresses exist today, for many keep their powers concealed. _

_It is believed, though, that they avoid spreading their power _

_too thin. Sorceress power has been passed down throughout _

_history by the process of embodiment. Any girl or woman who _

_has the capacity to embody the great sorceress power is a _

_candidate._

"Dammit! Nothing's relevant!" cried the student again.

Squall got up to put the book back. He caught the conversation of three girls. They were about his age, but he had never seen them before.

"I wonder how many are going to pass the SeeD exam today."

"Who knows? The failure rate is extremely high. And only twelve people made it to the field exam."

"How many girls?"

"Just one this time around."

"Oh, I hope she does well. Girls in this place have such a bad reputation. Everybody thinks that we don't want to train and study and stuff."

Squall couldn't stand anymore of their foolish conversations. Girls didn't have a bad reputation at Garden, he thought to himself. His mind wandered to Instructor Trepe, his favorite instructor. Even he wouldn't want to cross her in combat, for she was a formidable warrior. He left the library as quickly as he could manage, and headed toward the dormitories.


	3. 2: Squad B

He met nobody in the halls. Squall grumbled as he went, imagining the discomfort he would be feeling in a few minutes. He hated wearing his Garden uniform. The uniforms were only issued for ceremonies, public appearances, and special occasions. Wearing them was not required around the Garden, however most students always wore theirs. Squall preferred his own clothing.

Squall entered the room he had called his own for twelve years. In this garret was crammed Squall's firm twin bed that was always made perfectly. Beside the bed was a short night stand with a phone/intercom, a pen, and his wallet on top of it. His few sets of clothes, including his blue school uniform, hung on hangers over the closed window shade since he had no rack for them. A few books and framed certificates he'd received sat on a shelf built into the wall above his bed. His gunblade case leaned against the wall at the foot of the bed.

Ascertaining that nothing in his room had been moved or changed, Squall closed the door and took down the hanger holding his uniform. He undressed and then put it on quickly. When he was done, he looked in his mirror. He pushed aside his untidy dark brown hair so that he could see his forehead. He looked for a long time at his easily noticeable wound. It was large and deep–about four inches long. It went across the bridge of his nose, from above his right eyebrow to just below his left eye. Doctor Kadowaki was right when she called him lucky. Squall shrugged at his reflection. The blue Garden livery was itchy and stiff, but it looked good on him. It went well with his blue-gray eyes and dark brown hair. He was about five-foot-nine-inches tall, thin, and all muscle. He was in perfect physical condition, thanks to the intense training he had endured for twelve years. Girls around Garden looked at him with wide eyes. Squall was handsome, and he needed no vanity to admit it.

A few hours later, the young man left the dormitory and jogged into the lobby. It was a big room, plain and simple. The only furnishings were a large, stand-up map of Garden, and shrubs and flowers planted in boxes along the walls. The elevator doors were also in the room. Eleven students were there already, standing at attention in two rows. A spot was open for Squall in the front row, to the right. He had earned that spot... right guard. Of course, that was one of the reasons Seifer hated him so much. He took his place silently, and waited like the rest of them. Nine SeeD members, including four instructors, also stood in formation next to the SeeD candidates. Instructor Trepe was among them.

"Everyone here?" a voice asked. "It's been a while. How's everyone doing?"

Headmaster Cid Kramer, with his big horn-rimmed glasses, walked over to brief the twelve SeeD candidates. He wore a very mismatched suit of maroon pants, a green shirt, and a light gray vest. He was about fifty years old, perhaps more. A half-grown beard tried to sprout from his cheeks and chin. The four instructors bowed to him, while the others simply puffed out their chests and looked regal.

"This exam will involve twelve members from squads A through D. You will be proceeding to a battlefield. Obviously, the battles are for real," Headmaster Kramer said. "Life and death, victory and defeat, honor and disgrace. Each of these go hand in hand. There's only one way or the other."

He looked at each person in turn. Squall thought that Headmaster Kramer looked at him an especially long time.

"How 'bout it?" the headmaster asked. "Are you still up for it?"

He paused for a moment, as if waiting for a reply to his rhetorical question. "You will be accompanied by nine SeeD members. Should you fail, these members shall get the job done. They always do. Well, that's one less worry on your mind," he continued. "The pride of Balamb Garden! The elite mercenary force, SeeD! Learn from them, obey their commands, and accomplish the mission. Prove yourself worthy of becoming a member of SeeD. Best of luck. Now, instructors, announce the squads."

Instructor Trepe was the first to step forward. She glanced at a blue clipboard in her hand, and then back up at the SeeD candidates.

"Leonhart. Squall Leonhart," Instructor Trepe called.

He obediently went up to her, where she stood against one of the walls. She had changed into her SeeD uniform, and looked very...very professional. A few others were called by the other three instructors.

"I'll be announcing your squad's assignment for the exam now," she said. "Let's see...you'll be with... Zell. Quite a lively fellow."

Squall frowned. "Lively? He's just loud. Can't I switch members?"

Instructor Trepe shook her head and folded her arms. "I'm afraid that's not possible." She looked behind Squall to across the room. "Dincht. Zell Dincht."

Squall turned to see his exam partner. It was strange to see Zell not practicing his martial arts. He hardly ever could stand still for more than a minute. He was always training by himself, kicking and punching the air, pummeling invisible adversaries. He always wore a smile, even when fighting. He had warm, but surprising, black eyes and a shock of blonde hair that stuck up in the front. Squall saw clearly the tatoo on the left side of his head; a spiky black design around his eye. Zell heard his name and walked over to Instructor Trepe and Squall. Squall noted Zell's brightly patterned blue and red clothes that grabbed your attention and held it. He gawked at Squall.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed. "I'm with you!"

He put out his hand, but Squall didn't take it. Zell didn't seem to care, for Squall's taciturn and anti-social behavior was well known throughout Garden.

"You don't get along with Seifer, do you?" Zell asked, more a statement than a question. "Heard he whooped you pretty bad this morning."

"We weren't fighting. We were training," Squall answered defensively.

Zell grinned. "I bet you he doesn't think so," he said. He cuffed Squall softly on the shoulder. "Look, Seifer's just being a pain in the ass. All you have to do is ignore him."

"That's none of your business," Squall said darkly.

Squall didn't much like Zell. He was too exuberant, too jolly, too loud. Zell was always eager to please, and usually overreacted to almost anything said to him by his peers. But in truth, Squall could sense that Zell was a good person, sincere and honest at heart. And a good candidate for SeeD, he supposed. Which meant that he was potentially a rival.

Instructor Trepe finally broke into the conversation. "Excuse me," she said loudly. "but that Seifer you're talking about...he's your squad leader."

Squall showed no reaction, but Zell turned bright red and clenched his fists. "SAY WHAT!" he yelled angrily.

Instructor Trepe remained calm, even though Zell looked as if he was going to burst into a thousand pieces. "I'm sorry, but it can't be changed."

At that moment, Seifer and his two lackeys, Fujin and Raijin, walked in. Seifer still wore his customary gray trench-coat, even though uniforms had been required. Eighteen-year-old Fujin looked frightening as ever, with her gray hair and skin-tight blue suit. She had a patch over one eye, and only ever spoke one word at a time. Instead of saying "go to bed now" she would nod her head and shout "BED!". It was confusing sometimes. Seventeen-year-old Raijin looked scarier, though. He was an enormous young man, wearing only billowing red pants, so that he could show off his bulging torso muscles. Raijin, Fujin, and Seifer made up the Balamb Garden student disciplinary committee, to be sharply differentiated with the faculty disciplinary committee. Seifer's posse was only around to threaten kids into behaving.

"You're the squad leader, Seifer. Before we leave, you are to change into your Garden uniform," Instructor Trepe told Seifer firmly. "Good luck to you."

Seifer frowned. He spoke with mock politeness. "Instructor, I hate it when people wish me luck." He gestured to Zell and spoke in his usual gruff tones, "Save those words for a bad student who needs them."

Instructor Trepe smiled. "Okay then. Good luck, Seifer."

Seifer's face darkened, and Squall thought that he might actually attack his instructor. He was rash enough. Instead of assaulting her, he whirled around to face Fujin and Raijin.

"Add Instructor Trepe to the list," he barked.

_The list?_ Squall thought. _What list?_

Quistis Trepe cleared her throat as Fujin and Raijin nodded and ran off.

"Well then," she started. "You're all assigned to Squad B. I'll be the instructor in charge. Teamwork is of utmost importance. Let's get through this exam, everyone!"

Squall knew that this exam would be a tough one. It was a real battle in the real world, not a staged performance. There were conflicts going on all over the world. Nations or government workers or even civilians hired SeeD for various types of service. If there was a conflict or war large enough to hire twenty or so skilled warriors, Balamb Garden would bring along SeeD candidates instead of SeeDs and use it as the final exam. Sometimes this resulted in disaster for the party or nation that hired SeeD, but it couldn't be helped. The hiring party wasn't able to specify exactly which people were hired and brought in. They just trusted the Garden to decide who to send, and prayed that it was a good decision. As Headmaster Cid had said, though, the SeeD members accompanying the candidates would get the job done if they couldn't.

Seifer turned to Zell and Squall. "Listen up! Teamwork means staying out of my way. It's a Squad B rule, and don't you forget it!"

"Well, then" Instructor Trepe interrupted, before Zell could go at Seifer. "Let's go."

Seifer, Instructor Trepe, and Zell headed for the parking lot, while Squall stayed. Headmaster Kramer had beckoned to him from across the room, so Squall went to him.

"Sir?" he asked, saluting.

"We've yet to have a gunblade specialist in SeeD," the headmaster said. "That is why I am hoping you and Seifer will join us in SeeD. Best of luck, Squall."

Squall saluted again, and Instructor Trepe called to him. He ran off after her.

Inside the van, Zell was getting restless. They had only been riding for a few minutes, and he was antsy already. Squall once again felt strong disdain for Zell Dincht. Did he have any patience at all? Couldn't he sit still for just a moment? Squall doubted it. But then again, to Squall, patience and silence were strong virtues.

"Yo, Squall, show me your gunblade, will ya?" he asked.

Squall said nothing, and stared emotionless between his knees at the floor. He sat hunched over, resting his forehead on his hands, and his hands on his knees.

"Just a peek!" Zell claimed. When Squall still didn't answer, he stopped whining. "Tch...fine! Why you bein' so selfish? Scrooge!"

Squall kept ignoring him.

"Say somethin', will ya?" W-What's on your mind?" Zell, unable to remain quiet for more than a moment or two.

"Nothing," Squall answered.

Zell managed to say nothing for a whole minute, to the surprise of all. He got up and began practicing again...punching the air, sparring with nothing in particular.

"Stop that," Seifer ordered. "It's annoying. Chicken-wuss."

Zell stopped sparring and glared down at Seifer.

"WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?" he yelled.

Seifer laughed, and Instructor Trepe sat up abruptly.

"Knock it off!" she cried.

Zell sat back down, fuming, and Seifer quit his laughing. Squall raised his head to Instructor Trepe.

"Instructor...who was that girl in the infirmary this morning?" he asked.

Instructor Trepe considered this. "Was someone there? I didn't see anybody," she said. Instantly, her matronly instincts took over. "Is there a problem?"

Squall looked down again. "No...not really."

Seifer started laughing his cruel laugh again.

"This is great," he said. "I have Chicken-wuss and a guy who just reached puberty in my squad. Just great."


End file.
